The young girl danced around her outdated kitchen. The same kitchen where her brother and herself used to bake the most sour cookies. The cabinets hung low, and the paint was peeling.
She let herself drift in and out of the present. Swaying through the area like a willow tree does in a summers wind.
The pots clashed quickly as she shoved them into a drawer. The fridge gurgled as she put away the eggs. Hearing her anklets jingle as she moved.
Written by Alecia Writes.